by Amy Patrick
“Yes. Every summer. My sister didn’t care for it. She preferred the city—still does. But I immediately took to country life. I never wanted to leave. Is your home anything like this?” I swept my arm to indicate the vista before us.
Macy choked on her wine, laughing. “Like Tuscany? No. Missouri is nothing like this. It has its charms, though, I guess.”
“You must miss home. Will you go back there when you leave here?”
“Um… not right away. There are still lots of places I haven’t seen yet. And I still have some savings in the bank, so… no. I’ll keep traveling. That is, if someone can help me get a passport.”
She smiled, but her eyes were still wary. As before when we discussed her background, Macy seemed evasive. That was something I could certainly understand. But I seriously doubted her secrets were anywhere as shocking as mine. Still, I got the impression there was a reason she didn’t want to go home. And for some reason, I was dying to know what it was.
“Once you’ve finished your tour, what will you do? What would you like to do with your life?” I asked.
“You mean, what do I want to be when I grow up?” She blinked. “I don’t know. I used to, but…”
“But what? What did you ‘used to’ want to do?”
A battle waged across her face. She was deciding whether to open up to me. Finally she said, “I used to be a gymnast.”
“Like in the Olympics? Vault and balance beam and floor exercises?”
She nodded. “Yes. Like that. I started when I was five, and it’s all I ever wanted to do. I was actually training for the Olympics.”
“But not anymore?”
She shook her head.
“What happened? Were you injured?”
Her lips folded into a grim line. “Not me. My little sister, Lily. People always assumed I’d be jealous of her when she was born—she came along six years after me and I’d been an only child for so long. But I never felt that way. I adored Lily from the minute I saw her, and as soon as I was allowed, I started taking her with me everywhere. She wanted to go everywhere I went, do everything I did—she was my little shadow.”
She smiled, clearly remembering good times, but her smile faded as she continued her story. “We were… we were at the gym alone at the end of the day, waiting on Mom to pick us up. Lily was in gymnastics, too, and we were doing some simple tumbling on the mats. But then she wanted to try the uneven bars.”
She stopped, her breath hitching. “I knew better. I knew better, but I let her anyway. I thought I could handle spotting her. I thought I could do anything back then. I’ve always had a reckless streak. It helped me attempt stunts no one else would even try. Everyone always said I was so brave, but this time…”
Macy’s voice grew ragged as she continued. “She came down wrong. I knew it the second she hit the floor. Her spine was crushed.” A long pause. “She’s paralyzed now.”
I reached for her, unable to stop myself. “I am so sorry. That must have been so hard for you.”
Macy recoiled, rejecting my attempt to comfort her. Her eyes held fury and self-hatred as she brought them up to meet mine.
“For me? She’s twelve years old, and she’ll never walk again, never dance at her prom, never go for a walk on the beach with a boy. She can’t feel anything below her chest. Her whole life is ruined because of me. I was supposed to be watching her, taking care of her. I nearly killed her.”
“Macy. It was an accident.”
“It doesn’t matter. The end result is still the same.”
“And that is why you don’t compete in gymnastics anymore?”
“If she can’t even stand on her own, I’m not going to go flipping across a floor in front of cheering crowds. I don't deserve to be an Olympian and have my picture on cereal boxes. I don't even deserve to walk.”
It wasn’t true of course, but she wasn’t in the mood to be placated. I simply nodded. “I see. So your family blames you then.”
“No. Lily forgives me completely, which is almost worse. My parents I’m not so sure about. They’ve said the right things. But there’s a look in their eyes, you know? Their hearts are broken. My mom had to quit her job to take care of Lily, and my dad has to plan for her whole future now as an adult. She’ll always need someone to help her.” She shook her head. “Why are we even talking about this? What is in this stuff?”
She held her glass up to the sun and studied it suspiciously, as if it might contain truth serum or something. Her face was flushed, and she wouldn’t look at me, like she was ashamed to have revealed so much of herself.
My heart shifted toward her. It was easy to see now why she had left the States and was backpacking across Europe alone. I took a breath, opened my mouth to speak, closed it again. I wasn’t used to talking about myself, to sharing anything other than what the paparazzi and television cameras could pick up from the perfect façade I presented to the world. Finally, I said it.
“Do you know why I haven’t been back here to this place for two years?
“You’ve been playing soccer all over Europe?”
“Well, that, but there is time off. I don’t come back because… I also have regrets.”
“If you’re going to try to one-up me and make me feel better, just don’t, okay? I seriously doubt you’ve ever crushed someone’s spine and stolen their ability to walk.”
No, just my own heart and my own ability to feel.
“There was a girl,” I continued. “Mariana. She grew up on the neighboring farm—that small one there.” I pointed across the fields to where just the roof of a small farmhouse was visible beyond an olive grove. “We played together as children when I’d visit in the summers. Her parents worked in my family’s vineyard. The summer I turned sixteen, things changed between us. Our conversations, our games, they changed. She was my first kiss, and I was hers. I had to leave for school, but she was all I could think about until the next summer. When I returned, we declared our love for each other. It’s silly, I know, but it was how I felt.”
Listening closely now, Macy shook her head. “It’s not silly,” she whispered.
Nodding, I went on. “We vowed that we would always be together. We made plans for our future, made promises…” My voice drifted as the painful, sweet memories swamped me.
“Made love?” Macy asked.
I felt my face turn hot. “No. We got close a couple of times, but… it was important to both of us to wait until marriage. Her family is very Catholic, and mine is…” Elven. You see, I’m Elven, and when we sleep with someone, that’s it—forever. We’re bonded for eternity. “…mine is very traditional, too. We spent every minute we could together that summer. When I went away for school in the fall, I promised I’d come back the next year and we’d be married.”
“But then you met Alessia?” Macy guessed.
I swept my hand through the air in an irritated gesture. “No. The situation with Alessia is a new one. My parents… I made the mistake of telling them about my plans with Mariana. Rather loudly and with great vigor, in fact.”
She smiled at my rueful laugh. “Yes, I was seventeen once—not that long ago. I recall the angst. So what happened?”
“I came back here and broke it off with her, and then I left and haven’t been back since. I heard she married a boy from the next village. He’s a farmer, I believe.”
“You broke up with her? What did your parents say?”
I bunched my shoulders and let them fall. “They reminded me of how things are. Mariana and I were… too different. People like me don’t marry people like her.”
Macy blinked, her brows coming together in a horrified frown. “That’s terrible.” Her voice was saturated with indignation. “It’s so snobby. So I guess Alessia is rich enough for you then? You’re going to marry a girl who’s mean as a hornet because she has money?”
“It’s not a matter of money. It’s… there’s more to it. It’s complicated.”
“It sounds pretty straightforw
ard to me. You broke up with a girl you loved—who loved you back—because you were from different social classes.”
My falling in love with a girl from a lower social class would have irritated my father, to be sure. But someone from a different species? He had hit the roof.
“You would throw away your position, your reputation, our entire family line?” he’d yelled. “For what? A girl whose life will last only a fraction of your own. Any children you might have would never be recognized by the court. And as soon as she’s gone, you’ll have the mark—you’ll be alone for eternity. You’ll have nothing. I will not allow it.”
“I love her. She loves me. We’re going to be together. You can’t stop me,” I’d challenged, full of teenaged passion and righteous anger.
“You are wrong about that,” Papà said. “Nothing is more important to me than our family’s name and heritage and protecting the future of our people. Certainly not love. Or the life of a human. Their lives are so short anyway, what difference does it make?”
I’d frozen in place, understanding instantly what his remark meant. “You threaten her life?”
He’d given me a deceptively gentle smile. “The girl will live a safe and happy life—as long as it’s without you.”
I’d gotten up and fled his office, feeling my heart ice over and sink into a state of suspended animation. Only in these past few days had it begun to unthaw and show signs of life. Because of Macy.
“The point is,” I said to her, “you are not the only one who has hurt someone. You think you don’t deserve any happiness because you caused harm to someone you love. But what you did was an accident. I chose to break Mariana’s heart. I have to live with that and all its consequences—forever. So… maybe you do feel a bit better about yourself now?”
I gave her a hopeful smile. She responded with a reluctant grin and a heavy dose of sarcasm. “I guess I am kind of a saint compared to you.”
“Exactly.” I laughed and nodded.
“Thank you for sharing that with me. Honesty is pretty much my favorite thing.” Macy’s expression grew thoughtful. “So… why did you want to come back here today, after all this time?”
“I… needed to restock my father’s wine supply.” And I wanted Romigi and Teo to meet you for some reason.
“That’s the real reason?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“Well, that seems like something a servant could have done. I think you wanted to come here for another reason.”
I stiffened, bracing myself for an argument. “And what would that reason be?”
“I think you wanted to come here because it’s a home—a real home—and because you wanted to… I don’t know… get back to your roots, reconnect with people who know your past, who really know you.”
It was like she was a mind-reader. Did this little human have glamour powers of her own? Uncomfortable, I mumbled, “It is nice to see them. I miss Romigi and Teodora—but we are taking several cases of wine with us.”
For a long time, she didn’t respond, just probed me with those bright, knowing eyes of hers. “What are you going to do when you stop playing soccer—I mean football?”
I scratched my head at the abrupt change in topic, looking out over the valley. “I don’t know. Why?”
“Well, I was just thinking… why don’t you go to architecture school? There’s bound to be a great one in Paris—or in Florence for that matter. You have down time in the off-season, I would think. I mean, you can’t play forever. And you just light up whenever the subject is discussed. You don’t need your family’s approval for this one. You’re an independent adult now—you must have enough money on your own from your career—unless you’ve blown it all like Mike Tyson or something.”
I wrenched my gaze away from her teasing smile, scowling. Her remark was innocent, but it spurred a wave of yearning that threatened to wash me down the hillside. I didn’t like that feeling. She had no idea how tightly I was constrained by my family and my fated future. I’d already sacrificed true love for it. Career dreams were nothing compared to that.
“Nic?”
Finally, I met her eyes again. “Again—money is not the issue. You don’t know—you can’t understand the kind of responsibility I have hanging over me.”
“Try me.”
12
Nic
My gaze lingered on her encouraging expression.
I couldn’t tell her. I wanted to, but I couldn’t drag her any farther into my messed up life than she already was. I’d already told her too much, which was stupid. There was no one I could talk to about my real feelings, my real desires and dreams.
There was no point in discussing such things anyway. My dreams didn’t matter. They were stupid and pointless because they weren’t going to happen. I looked away, growling inside at the unfairness of fate.
“Nic—maybe I would understand,” she said sweetly, laying a delicate hand atop mine, “if you’d tell me.”
“No. You wouldn’t understand,” I bit out, yanking my hand away from her tempting touch. “How could you? You are a… a drifter… a careless, flighty girl with no one counting on you, no one who depends on you.”
Her face drained of color then reddened by slow degrees, her pretty eyes moistening and filling with tears. She ducked her head and got to her knees, gathering the picnic items and placing them back into the basket.
“You’re right,” she said without looking up at me. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
Merda. Her feelings were hurt. I’d hurt her. And I’d done it because she’d been absolutely right about me. I liked coming here because this was the only place I’d been allowed to truly be myself, to dream about a future of my own choosing, to live without the pressures and expectations of the Court and my role in it by birthright.
I took a deep breath and let it out, my head dropping back onto my shoulders. Then I got up and walked down the hillside toward a multi-hued patch of flowers growing wild in the field. There were Marguerite daisies and brilliant pink Sulla. But I knew which ones I wanted. I went straight for the papafava—the poppies, gathering handfuls until I had an overflowing crimson bouquet.
When I returned to our picnic spot, Macy had it all tidied up and stood waiting, the basket handle in one hand and the blanket folded over her other arm. She kept her eyes trained off to the side on the landscape stretching out for miles.
I took the blanket, then the basket, setting them back on the ground. I handed her the flowers
“Please forgive me. I was horribly rude. I hurt your feelings when you were only trying to be kind to me. I’m sorry.”
She stared at the bouquet in my hand, not moving to take it, saying nothing. Then her eyes came up to lock with mine. The tears spilled over, running down her cheeks.
It was as if she’d reached into my chest and taken my heart into her tiny hand, squeezing it hard.
“Do you not like them? They’re poppies. I thought they were your favorite.” I shot a panicked glanced behind me. “I can get another kind—”
“No.” She reached out and took the bouquet, bringing it to her nose. “They are my favorite. They’re perfect.”
“Then why do you cry?”
Her response was a whisper. “Because I’m afraid.”
I drew back, blinking in shock. “Afraid? Of what? What makes you afraid here?” Again I surveyed the peaceful rustic setting, the rolling hills, the cerulean skies dotted with fluffy white clouds.
“You do,” she said. “Last night with the dress, and the food, and the rain. Today with the confession about Mariana, and now… these flowers. The fact that you know they’re my favorite. No one knows that about me. You knew what to say to get me to go to the restaurant, and you knew exactly the dress and shoes I’d love. You knew about the smell of rain and watching a storm come in. Those weren’t guesses. You knew.” She shook her head, turning her wide green eyes up to me. “How?”
My pulse buzzed in my ears
like the honeybees that pollinated our grape vines. I didn’t want to lie to her. Not with tears still fresh in her eyes from my cruel remarks. I liked her—really liked her, and I did not want to hurt her in any way. But I couldn’t tell her the truth. She was already onto my glamour—I could see it in her eyes.
What a chooch I was. I’d been careless. I was so concerned about her injured feelings, about making her happy again, I’d risked our secret. Protecting it was our number one rule. My parents would kill me if they knew how close I’d come to letting it slip. They’d kill her. It was like Mariana all over again.
“I…” I shook my head, at a loss. What could I say?
Her hands came out to take mine. They were so tiny. So soft.
Her voice was soft, too, caressing my ears, tugging at my self-control like a strong, invisible thread. “Nic. You can talk to me. Honesty without consequences, remember? I’ve already figured out there’s something different about you. Just tell me what it is. Are you, like, descended from gypsies or something? You’re psychic? I don’t know… I’ll believe pretty much anything at this point.”
Staring into her eyes I realized I’d been inching my face toward hers. The light inside her was like a beacon, and I was a sailor drifting with no compass, spotting the one thing that seemed to have the power to save me. Unable to stop my course, I brought my mouth down to hers, shaking my head and whispering my denial against her lips.
“No. You wouldn’t.”
I’d never felt anything in my life like the sensations that shot through my body when I kissed her. If I didn’t know it was a sunny day, I’d have sworn lightning had struck the hilltop, frying my brain and every last shred of willpower I possessed. My heart flipped and spun—dancing.
My lips moved against hers in a near frenzy, and to my utter shock, she did nothing to stop me. In fact, when my arms went around her waist and back, she slipped hers up behind my neck, sliding the fingers of one hand into my hair and moaning softly into my mouth.
That nearly undid me. Did she feel it, too then? The powerful magnetic pull, the sparks of energy flowing between us? She certainly seemed to—her breaths were hot strikes on my cheeks as we kissed, and she rose on her tiptoes to try to even the ridiculous height mismatch between us.